


Regrets

by vanguardinitiate



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanguardinitiate/pseuds/vanguardinitiate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Hawke escaped the Ferelden Circle right before the Blight hit – stowing away with the cargo she didn't realize the boat she was on was heading to Kirkwall. For a year she hid in Darktown, keeping out of templar eyes and staying away from her own magic. One night changed everything for her – after being beaten and thrown away, a man found her. A man who changed everything for her.</p><p>Anders/FemHawke – Alternate Universe – No Justice/Vengeance in Anders</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My Hawke doesn't make good jokes...and she doesn't always understand humor – blame the Circle, they ribbed her of her individuality. Also, most of the characters will seem OOC. I made this AU for a couple reasons and you will be seeing why as the story goes on. I hope you all like the first chapter '^-^
> 
> Chapter Warning/Content:  
> Rape  
> Action

Hawke sat under her stairs in the lower levels in Darktown. She looked at the wall next to her and pulled her dagger out from it's sheath on her belt. She carved another tally on the wall.

_Three-hundred sixty five._

“A full year,” Hawke whispered. She didn't recognize her own voice sometimes. She's spent so long alone, there was never a need to talk. Hawke put the dagger back and leaned onto the wall, resting the side of her temple against the cold surface. Hawke could hear some shouting from above her, probably someone getting mugged. Hawke looked down at the sword that laid next to her. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the screaming. It was normal is Darktown. People get mugged every night, women get raped and men get murdered for being courageous. Hawke has earned her share of scars trying to stop some crimes she came across. Hawke froze once she started to hear an infant cry.

“God dammit,” Hawke quickly got up, grabbing the sword, and ran out from under the stairs. She skipped steps as she climbed up the stairs. She turned a corner and stopped. An elven woman was stuck under a man, her top torn off and tears falling from her eyes. Her arm was stretched out towards another man standing just out of arms reach. The man smirking and holding the woman's child, starting to undo the blankets it was wrapped in.

“H-Hey!” Hawke drew her sword, calling out to the men. She walked closer to them, her sword pointed towards them, “Let them go!”

The man with the baby smirked and threw it to the side, another man that she didn't see in the shadow caught it. The infants cries could be heard throughout the calls, making Hawke shiver. She could hear foot steps behind her, turning her head to look. Two more men with weapon's emerged from the shadows.

_Shit._

She heard the baby cry again before the halls went quiet. She turned her head to look, quickly leaping away as large sword swooped down at her, cutting her hood off. She hissed as she fell back into the two men from behind, pushing them down with her. She knew the sword cut her shoulder but ignored the pain as she pushing herself off of the men, picking up her sword and quickly slit one of the mens throats.

Her arms are caught by two bolas and she struggles to break free as the men that held the baby before leapt at her. Hawke kicked one in the jaw, him falling into the other man. She screamed as an arrowed pierced her thigh, another piercing through her shoulder blade. She cursed as she used her magic to burn off the bolas ropes and pull out her dagger. She threw it at the man that killed the child – the dagger cutting through his eye. He fell to the ground as the other man came up behind Hawke and strike the pressure points in her back, weakening her.

“Ah!” Hawke fell to the ground, her sword falling out of her hand. The man that was raping the woman stalked up to her and picked her up by the collar. He slammed her against the wall, his arm pressing against her neck. Hawke struggled to breathe as she clawed at the mans arm. She could see past the man that the woman's throat was slit, the baby lay next to her – its head bashed in. Tears welled up in Hawkes eyes as she felt herself slipping away. The man let go and slammed her against the wall again. She heard something crack before she fell to the ground, numb and disoriented. Hawke reached around for something to protect herself with, feeling nothing around her start tried shielding herself as she saw the mans dagger coming towards her. She held her hands up, curling up on her side, trying to defend herself. He replaced the daggers with his fist, punched her face over and over again until she didn't struggle anymore. Her eyes couldn't focus as the last two men turned her over. She yelped as the gash on the back of her head touched the ground.

“ _What should we do with you_?” One of the men snickered, pulling out a dagger. He started to tear off Hawke's clothes.

“N...no,” Hawke voice was hoarse as she struggled to keep consciousness. Her fingers twitched as she felt the front of her shirt cut open, the blade cutting her stomach. She could hear the men laughing before a bright light shined in front of her, feeling the heat of the fire. She could hear yelling and fighting before feeling something cover her chest. Hawke tried to focus her eyes as someone carefully picked her up.

“Don't worry,” The figure said, “You're safe.”

* * *

Hawke's eyes slowly fluttered open. It took her a moment to realize she wasn't under the stairs or that she wasn't in the lower regions of Darktown. Hawke turned her head to the side, hearing papers shuffling. A man stood at the desk next to the cot, his back facing her. One of his hands rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down at something in his other hand. Hawke opened her mouth to speak, shutting it once the man turned. Her brows furrowed, trying to place his face. Hawke groaned as she tried to push herself up. She cringed as she put pressure on her shoulder, rolling onto her side.

“You shouldn't move,” The man was at her side at an instant.

“I-I'm fine,” Hawke mumbled, pushing her legs off the cot.

“No, you're not.”

Hawke told the guy to fuck off as she stood up. She stepped forward and screamed, falling to the ground and holding onto her leg. The pain made her vision turn white. Hawke hissed as she rolled onto her side.

“As I said,” The man sighed and carefully picked her up, “You aren't fine.”

Hawke mumbled curses as the man placed her back on the cot.

“Now I need to heal your leg again.” The man mumbled, walking over to his desk and taking the staff that leaned on the pillar next to it.

“Magic,” Hawke whispered, “N-No! Do...Don't come near me.” Hawke quickly scurried into the corner of the bed, ignoring the searing pain in her leg.

The man sighed and set his staff down, “I'm not a blood mage.”

“I-I don't care-”

“What's your name?” The man asked sternly, cutting her off. Hawke didn't answer, looking around the room.

“Do you have a name?” The man asked, his eyes turning soft as he saw her confused expression.

“...Hawke.” Her voice was hoarse as she spoke. She looked down at her scratched up hands, inwardly cursing and yelling.

“Would you like some water, Hawke?”

Hawke looked up at him, a small nod. He walked over to a bucket that laid next to his desk and pulled a wooden cup out of it. Water fell from the top of the cup as pulled it out. He walked back over to Hawke and knelt down next to the cot.

“Here.” He held out his hand, a soft smile on his face. Hawke stared at his hand before moving her eyes to his face.

“You don't need to heal me.” Hawke narrowed her eyes at him.

“I don't need to,” He nodded, “But I want to.” He moved the cup a little, the smile not leaving his face. Hawke hesitantly took the cup from his hands and gulped it down. She panted as she brought the cup away from her mouth.

“Will you let me heal you now?” Anders asked as Hawke handed the cup back to him. He placed the cup on the floor next to him as Hawke laid down on the cot, biting her lip and groaning whenever she put pressure on her wounds. Anders brought his hands over her legs, teal magic tickling his fingers as he started to heal her leg.

“What's your name?” Hawke asked, not being able to take the silence anymore.

“I am Anders.” He furrowed his brow as he continued to heal her.

“How did I get here?” Hawke looked up at the ceiling.

“What do you remember?” Anders asked, pulling his hands away from her leg. He looked up at her as she furrowed her brows.

“I...remember...fighting these men. They were raping this woman...and...her child...I was...trying to protect them...” Hawke shut her eyes and shook her head.

“I found you,” Anders got up, the cup in his hand, and walked back over to his desk.

Hawke sat up and looked at him, “...I can go now?”

Anders nodded, “If you want, sure.”

Hawke nodded and grabbed her boots, putting them on. She tested her leg and applied pressure on it. With a nod she headed to the door.

“You could stay the night,” Anders leaned against his desk, his arms crossed.

Hawke placed her hand on the door and turned to look at him, “Usually when men offer a woman to stay, they think they are entitled to something.”

Anders chuckled, “This is a clinic. People stay the night here a lot of the time. Tonight just happens to not be one of those nights.”

“I...” Hawke bit her lip, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Think of it as...a gift from a friend,” Anders stood up, walking over to her, “Just for the night.”

“A friend...” Hawke looked down and sighed, “One night.”

“One night,” Anders nodded, “At least rest up before heading back out into the dark.”

Hawke hid her smile, “Nice pun.”

Anders raised an eyebrow, “Pun?”

“Dark?...Darktown?” Hawke looked up at him, “N-No? Okay...never mind. Just...going to go to sleep...over there.” Hawke rubbed her neck as she walked back to the cot. Anders rubbed his chin, thinking before a small chuckle escaped his lips.

“Ah,” Anders nodded, snapping his fingers, “I did make a pun.” Anders looked over at Hawke as she laid back on cot. Hawke pulled the pillow into her arms, laying her cheek on her hand. She felt a blanket fall over her.

“Here,” Anders whispered, “It gets cold sometimes.”

“Thank you,” Hawke shoved her face in the pillow. The lights in the room dimmed as Anders blew the candles out. He slept in the cot furthest from her, picking up a blanket from another cot as he walked over to his.

“Thank you...Anders.” Hawke said loud enough for him to hear.

“You're welcome, Hawke.”

* * *

“Thank you again for letting me stay the night,” Hawke mumbled as she folded the blanket she used last night.

“You are welcome to stay whenever needed,” Anders shrugged, “My doors are always open.”

Hawke nodded, “I...I should go now. Make sure no one stole any of my things.”

“Why do you live in Darktown?” Anders asked.

“Why do you?” Hawke set the blanket down, staring at her hands.

“The people in Kirkwall-”

“No,” Hawke turned to him, “It has nothing to do with the _people_.”

Anders nodded, a dry laugh, “Templars.”

“Exactly,” Hawke hugged herself, looking down.

“I have to say,” Anders walked over to her, “You look familiar.”

“I...wouldn't know why,” Hawke shrugged, averting her eyes. Anders nodded, understand she didn't wish to speak about it. Though he did have a clue. He'll figure it out later. Anders walked Hawke to the door, opening it. A few men and women starting to walk towards the clinic. Anders opened both doors and lit the lanterns above the door as the men and women walked through. Anders looked over at Hawke as she started to head for the stairs outside of the clinic.

“Hawke,” Anders called to her, pulling her aside as people started walking into the clinic, “If you need someone to talk to-”

“Don't.” Hawke had a sad smile on her face, “Thank you for last night but...I most likely won't see you again.”

Anders looked her in the eye, “There are few you can trust. Trust someone who knows what you are going through.”

“I-...” Hawke bit her lip, looking away.

“Just know I'm here,” Anders places a hand on her arm, “If you need anything.”

“T...Thank you,” Hawke nodded, turning and leaving quickly.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it has neither been proven or disproven that when a Mage is near his or her phylactery their magic weakens, imagine that in this story the mage does not weaken. Most of the characters will still have the same appearance and entrance into my story as they had in the game – some of their backstory (or role in DA2) may stay the same and change very little or just change all together. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I loved writing it ^-^ (Anders has his look from Dragon Age: Origins NOT Dragon Age: 2...He looks kinda...NOT HIM in 2.)

Hawke took some time getting back to her dark corner under the stairs. Making sure not to go her usual way. Knowing Darktown, the bodies from last night were still there, looted and forgotten. Hawke sighed and rubbed her neck as she walked down another flight of stairs. She had to admit, Anders knew what he was doing. His healing was amazing. Hawke frowned as her corner came into view. All her things were ransacked – scattered across the floor behind the stairs. What little money she had was gone, clothes, objects, daggers. Hawke frowned and kneeled down, pushing away some blankets. A broken dagger laid under the blanket, picking it up she starting carving through the clay around a brick. She shimmied the brick out after getting the clay to loosen it. She cringed as she cut her finger, pulling the jagged brick out of the wall. She looked around, making sure no one was around before she pulled out her phylactery. Her fingers traced the golden circle that made her phylactery stay in place. She was able to make the phylactery stop glowing whenever she was near it. Now all she had to do was destroy it all together. Something was always holding her back whenever she was ready to destroy it, something in her mind told her – not yet, just wait. Hawke pushed all thoughts of destroying the phylactery away as she untied the chain on the back of the phylactery. She pulled the necklace over her head and forced it down her shirt to hide. She looked around the floor for any more of her things, coming up empty handed. Hawke stood up and rubbed her temple. She had to figure something out. She'll have to back to Lowtown to see if there were any odd jobs no one else would do. Hawke shook her head, realizing most of those jobs you would need a weapon for. Her weapon fell while she was fighting those men. Hawke unconsciously looked up at the stairs above her. She shook her head, knowing very well if someone saw a fairly made weapon lying around in Darktown, they would take it. Whether or not is was lodged into a man's body. Hawke headed towards Lowtown, passing by Anders clinic as she went to the Lowtown exit. She was able to sneak a peak into the clinic, seeing Anders help a man. From the way his shoulder looked she could guess it was dislocated. She saw Anders warn the man that this was going to hurt.

“I'm going to count to three. On three I will force it back into place,” Anders told the man, a reassuring smile on his face, “Would you mind counting for me?”

The man nodded and started counting. “One...Tw-Oh Maker!”

Anders apologized, “It's actually less painful when you don't expect it.” The man smiled at Anders and stood up, moving his shoulder around.

“I would suggest not doing much with the arm today. I can heal it enough to where the swelling will go down. You should be able do use it more tomorrow, though I would suggest no heavy lifting for three days.”

“Thank you, Anders,” The man patted Anders on the back.

“You're welcome, Gamlen.” Gamlen headed towards the door, Hawke quickly dodged out of sight as Anders looked toward her direction. She ran down the stairs and headed for the Lowtown exit before Anders could find out who was watching.

* * *

“What do you mean you aren't hiring?” Hawke yelled at the smuggler.

“Keep your voice down,” The man hissed, “The City Guard as been watching our movements. If you need coin, look elsewhere.” Hawke cursed at the man as he walked away.

“Where am I going to find work?” Hawke started walking towards the Foundry district, thinking in her mind where she could find other work. The mercenaries refused to ever take her in after finding out she was a woman, though she never wanted to work with them anyhow. They have two 'retired' Templar's in their ranks. The smugglers are being scrutinized by the city guard. She couldn't work for the bone-pit, women aren't as 'strong' as men. The only thing Hawke could come up with is looking for work on the Chanters Board in Hightown. Hawke bit her lip and stopped walking as she stood outside of The Hanged Man. She could see prostitutes leaning against the wall across the way. Whispering things to both men and women as they walked by. Hawke wondered if she would even be a good prostitute. She rolled her head and headed down to the markets. She could never be a prostitute – only because she was more inexperienced than an innocent child. She's never seen kissing, affection, love. The barely remembers her own father holding her mom. Or Carver talking about his new crush. Hawke shook her head, walking up the stairs to Hightown.

She will never be a prostitute...unless it was a life or death situation. She's positive even than she might just let death take her. Hawke's first instinct to forget going anywhere near the Chantry was when two Templars stood, in uniform, at the end of the Hightown Market. She hated their helmets – you could never see where they are looking, who they are analyzing. Hake decided to be quick about this. She sweat bullets as she passed the Templars, quickly skipping up the steps with a few other people. She headed towards the Viscounts Keep, seeing City Guards and Templars standing away from each other and watching. She felt like they were all looking at her. Her paranoia was getting worse as the went further into Hightown. She looked at the Chanters board and inwardly cursed.

“ **Nothing**?” Hawke spoke aloud in disbelief. She looked down, defeated, turning her back to the board. _How could there be nothing?_

Hawke took a step forwards, her foot stepping on a flyer. She looked down when she heard a crunch and picked up the paper.

“Test your luck against 'The Queen of the Eastern Seas' and 'Ser Aveline the Knight'. Winner receives one hundred sovereigns and a later fight against the champion, 'Tattoo'd Stick'.” Hawke pursed her lips as she read on. The location was in Darktown, not all the far from Anders clinic. Hawke headed back to Darktown, looking for this place.

She passed by Anders clinic again. Checking to see how he was doing. She was amazed to see his doors always open. With how many Templar's she's seen in this city, she guessed he would keep the doors shut. Hawke raised an eyebrow as she inched closer to the clinic. Anders was pouring a bottle of milk into a bowl.

“Ser-Pounce-A-Lot!” Anders called out as he set the bowl onto the ground. Hawke froze as she felt something rub against her shin. She looked down and saw, who she assumed, was Ser-Pounce-A-Lot rubbing against her, purring. She stared down at the cat, her head tilted. She'd never seen a cat before, at least one that didn't try to kill her. She smiled and knelt down.

“Hey,” She spoke softly and scratched the cat behind it's ears, “I think someone is looking for you.” The cat purred and walked under her hand, arching it's back to keep contact with her hand. While hypnotized by this furry feline, Anders came to stand behind her, his arms crossed and an amused smirk on his face. Ser-Pounce-A-Lot looked up at Anders and made a noise of satisfaction before running into his clinic.

“I see you like cats,” Anders smiled at her once she noticed him.

“Oh? Uh...yeah. They're...ummm...yeah.” Hawke averted her eyes as Anders laughed, “Glad to see my unique sense of words amuses you.”

“Or just you do.” Anders smile only grew as he saw Hawke shift from foot to foot.

“Come to spy on me some more?” Anders motioned for her to follow him into the clinic.

“I wasn't spying,” Hawke defended herself as she walked into the clinic.

“And I'm the Queen of Ferelden.” Anders joked, closing the door behind Hawke, “I shouldn't have made that joke. She'll eat me alive.”

“You know the queen?” Hawke asked, leaning her butt against his desk.

“I do,” Anders sat in the cot closest to his desk, “She's the only reason I'm alive.”

Hawke crossed her arms and glared at the ground, “You're a Warden.”

“How'd you know?” Anders looked down at himself, “I thought I got all the stench of darkspawn blood off me.”

Hawke sighed and pushed herself off the table, “I need to go.”

“Hawke-”

“Good bye,” Hawke walked to the door and opened it, some cats running through the door as she walked out. Anders tilted his head before leaning back on his palms. He's seen her before, he swears he's seen her before.

“But _where_?” He wondered aloud, earning a few looks from the cats, “What?” He stick his tongue out at them before falling back on the cot.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning:  
> Fighting  
> Cursing  
> Blood/Gore

“When can I fight?” Hawke crossed her arms and stared down at Varric, the fight club's owner.

“Tonight. You'll fight both The Queen and The Knight than we'll schedule with Broody and set up a date with him for next week.” Varric looked down at his book and nodded.

“Broody..?” Hawke raised an eyebrow.

“My own nickname for the _Tattoo'd Stick_ ,” Varric smiled and pushed himself out of his chair, “Tattoo'd Stick doesn't sound like him.”

"And... _Broody_ does?" Hawke tilted her head, crossing her arms.

“Well, he's Broody, has glowing tattoo's – seems like a good fit.” Varric shrugged and walked over to his bar, pouring himself some ale.

“ _Glowing..._ tattoo's?” Hawke stared at Varric, her mouth open.

“Heh,” Varric chuckled, nodding, “Yes, his tattoo's glow when he draws his _power_ from them. He's killed a few men in fights. I'd watch out when his fists start glowing.”

“He's _allowed_ to kill?” Hawke stared in shock.

“I rather he not but some fighters just don't know when to quit,” Varric sighed, moving back to his chair with his ale in hand.

“Where's the fight taking place?” Hawke pushed out all thoughts of this _Broody Tattoo'd Stick_ out of her mind and focused on tonight.

Varric picked up a scroll lying next to his chair and threw it at Hawke, “Everything you need to know is in there.”

“Do I need a name?” Hawke asked, pulling at the string that kept the scroll closed.

“Not really,” Varric shrugged and drank more of his ale, “Usually the contender picks a name after their first official win. If you beat Queen and Knight tonight, you get to pick one. For now, you're nameless.”

“ _Nameless,_ ” Hawke nodded, “Perfect.” Hawke opened the scroll and skimmed through the paragraphs, “Weapons?”

“How did you expect to fight?” Varric laughed, drinking, “With your fists?”

“Sorta.” Hawke mumbled, looking back down at the scroll, “I'll be at the foundry tonight. Does it matter what weapon I choose?”

“As long as it can cause damage, we're good.” Varric nodded and smiled to her before she left the room. Hawke took a deep breath as she stepped back into Lowtown. _Where the hell am I going to get weapons?_

As she was about to step forward she felt something nuzzle against her leg and start purring. She looked down to see that Anders cat, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot, had followed her. She looked around, checking to see if Anders by any chance had followed her as well. She looked back down at the cat as she felt it lay on her foot.

Hawke glared down at the cat and sighed, "Why are you following me?" The cat meowed at her before nipping at the lace on her boot. Hawke sighed and picked up the cat. The cat jumped onto her shoulder and curled around her neck. Hawke smiled, “I see you've mastered being a _fierce_ feline.” The cat meowed again before resting his head in it's paws as Hawke started walking deeper into darktown.

“You know anyone who can get me a weapon?” Hawke asked Ser-Pounce-A-Lot, earning a purring response.

“I can't tell if that's a yes or a no.” She rolled her eyes before staring at the cat from the corner of her eye. Ser-Pounce-A-Lot huffed and jumped off of her shoulder. He stuck up his tail before looking over his shoulder at Hawke. Hawke tilted her head and raised as eyebrow as she followed the cat towards the Lowtown entrance.

* * *

Hawke let Ser-Pounce lead her into the Lowtown Market. It was dusk and the vendors were cleaning up their merchandise, putting them away for the night. Ser-Pounce jumped onto a table full of weapons and stared up at Hawke, his head tilted. The merchant for this table had slipped away, probably setting another pack to put his weapons in...or chasing down thieves to stole from him.

“I am _not_ stealing,” Hawke crossed her arms and glared down at the cat. The cat stared up at Hawke, one of his paws pushing against a sheathed great sword.

“ **Don't**.” Hawke hissed, looking around. Ser-Pounce continued to push on the sword until it were at the edge of the table.

“Ser-Pounce-” Hawke quickly caught the sword in her hands before it hit the ground. Hawke looked around, seeing no one near by any longer. Ser-Pounce jumped off the table, as Hawke started walking to the foundry district. Ser-Pounce followed close behind her, looking up at her as she unsheathed the sword.

“Wow.” Hawke breathed out, “This is amazing.” Hawke walked down the stairs into the Foundry district, placing the sword back in it's sheath. She clipped the sheath's belt around her chest and made sure she could pull the sword out.

“Fuck!” Hawke hissed, her arm not long enough to pull it out, “How the hell do people use these things?”

Some chuckling came from behind Hawke, “Not like that.”

Hawke turned around quickly, letting go of the sword to put her hands up, ready to fight. A male elf stood behind her in the shadows, leaning his shoulder onto the wall. His facial features were covered by a hood but Hawke could hear armor clanking under the robe when he moved towards her.

“I'm not here to fight.” The man chuckled as he moved towards her, “Well, I'm not here to fight _you_. I'm simply here to watch tonight.”

Hawke took a step back as he neared her. “Please,” He held his hands up, “Do not be frightened.”

“What should I be than? Grateful?” Hawke narrowed her eyes. Ser-Pounce-A-Lot had disappeared. _Probably back to Anders_ , Hawke thought.

“That's a start,” The man tilted his head down as he entered into the light. He pointed towards the swords hilt, “I can help you.” Hawke slowly stood up straight as the man walked over to her.

“Take it off.” He mumbled, slipping his arm into his robe. Hawke unhooked the belt and pulled off the sword, handing it to the man. He pulled the sword out of his sheath and stepped behind Hawke, attaching something to the sword that she couldn't see. She heard a snap before she felt the sword pressed onto her back, it clipping onto the back of her coat.

The man stepped back in front of her and nodded, “Try it.” Hawke stared at the man as she unclipping the sword from her back and swung it forward.

“I guess I am grateful...Thank you.” Hawke smiled and clipped the sword onto her back.

“Good luck tonight,” The man nodded before heading towards the door to the foundry. Hawke watched him disappear before pulling out the scroll Varric gave her and reading the time.

“I need to get ready.”

* * *

The Queen stepped into the ring, Hawke on the other side.

“ _The Queen of the Eastern Seas_ versus _Nameless–_!”

“Wait,” The Queen smiled and held her hand up at Varric, walking towards Hawke, “I have my own tradition, if you very well remember.” Varric grumbled some things and turned his back away, waiting for Isabela to finish.

Isabela held out her hand to Hawke, “I'm Isabela.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow and looked down at Isabela's hand before shaking it, “...Hawke.”

“Good to meet you.” Isabela laughed, “Glad to see another woman contending. May the best win, yes?”

“Yeah.” Hawke nodded to her before Isabela walked backward, in clipping her daggers from her back.

“Whenever you're ready, sweetie.” Isabela calling to Varric, rolling the daggers in her hands before getting into a comfortable position. Hawke nodded and unclipped the sword from her back and moved it in front of her.

“ **Beg** **i** **n**!”

Isabela was first to attack, light on her feet and able to cut and nip Hawke a couple times before Hawke could read her moves. Hawke pushed Isabela's daggers away with her armored arm and swung her sword toward Isabela. Isabela quickly twirled around the sword, her daggers dropping from her hands as the sword cut her outer arm.

“ _Shit_!” Isabela cursed, holding onto her arm, “That fucking hurt.”

Hawke opening her mouth, ready to apologize, before she saw Isabela reach for a hidden dagger in her belt. Hawke quickly dropped her weapon, picking up on of Isabela's discarded daggers and tackled Isabela to the ground, slamming her hand onto the ground until she let go to the dagger. Hawke held the dagger up to Isabela's throat until she admitted defeat. The crowd cheered, some boo'd as they lost money. Hawke helped Isabela up, seeing another wound her on side that she didn't notice before.

“Do you need help with that?” Hawke asked, tilting her head to look at the wound.

Isabela laughed than hissed, clutching onto her side, “No...I'll be fine. We have a healer in the back room.”

“It was a good fight.” Hawke bowed to Isabela.

“That it was,” Isabela smiled, “Good luck, Hawke.” Isabela hissed in pain and held onto her side as she forced herself to bowed at Hawke.

* * *

The night hadn't even really began and Hawke was already a wreck. Isabela was nothing compared to Aveline. She was a **tank**. She saw Aveline walk into the clearing from the other side. Hawke stood in a large bunker, the ceiling pealed off so everyone could watch the fight above them. Varric stood above them, announcing the fight was going to begin in a couple of moments. Hawke could feel herself trembling.

_Why am I doing this again?_

“–One hundred sovereigns to _Nameless_ if she succeeds in defeating _Ser Aveline_!” Cheering erupted from the crowd above.

Hawke nodded, _That's right. Money._

“Let the fight begin!”

Hawke stared at Aveline as she pulled out her sword and picked up her shield. Hawke watched her inch closer, watching every step, twitch, spasm she could find on Aveline. Hawke placed her hand on her hilt as Aveline started running towards her, a battlecry erupting from her lips – catching Hawke off guard. Hawke bent forward, twisting under Aveline's blade as she thrusted it towards her. Aveline placed her shield in front of her before slamming into the wall. Hawke looked up at Aveline as she still knelt on the ground, placing a hand on the hilt of her sword. Aveline quickly turned back around and swung her sword at Hawke. Hawke stands and avoids the attack, unclipping her sword and swinging it in front of her just in time to block a thrust from Aveline.

The two women clashed, the crowd's cheers could be heard over Hawke's heart beat in her ears. Hawke ducked and slashed, Aveline twisting around her blade and bashed Hawke in the face with her shield. Hawke grunted as she fell on the ground. She looked up at Aveline, smirking down at her. Aveline had kicked Hawke's sword behind herself.

“Give up?”

Hawke growled and lunged forward, pushing Aveline to the ground with her. Hawke summersaulted towards her sword, picking it up just before Aveline stood back up.

“Nope.” Hawke stood up and smirked, getting back in her stance. The crowd cheered as Hawke fought back. Soon the weapons were completely discarded and only fists were being thrown. Hawke could feel blood slowly fall from the cut above her eyebrow, some falling into her vision when she jerked away from Aveline's punches. Hawke had never been in a fight this long or in a fight that involved her winning. She could see Aveline had started to wear down, her punches less forceful and painful. Soon her stepped began slowing down, making an opportunity for Hawke to swing her leg under Aveline's.

Aveline gasped and groaned as her back hit the ground. Aveline curled onto her side and waved her hand up, “I-I'm...done.” Hawke panted and took a couple steps back before falling against the wall. She panted and moved her legs against her chest as the crowd cheered. Hawke let her head fall back against the wall, the dried blood on the side of her face cracking as she moved around. Everything hurt. Hawke didn't feel it before but now. She didn't want to move, didn't want to breath. Her eyesight refusing to focus on anything, making her hand ache even more. Hawke heard the door to the bunker open, someone running towards her. She could hear someone calling her name, her vision was to blurry to see who knelt in front of her.

“ _Help_!”

Hawke grabbed onto the person's arm, “An...Anders...clin...ic...darktown...near lowtown...entra...nce..”

Hawke's vision completely faded, her falling unconscious, as two other people ran into the ring.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking Karl and Anders met after he fused with Justice so since Justice never happened – Karl never happened c: (Keep that in mind for later chapters. I'm just adding this in now so I don't forget for later XD) When the chapters comes up when this applies, I will add this part again to the notes. Also, I will be posting a picture soon of Anders outfit in this. Since I don't want him looking ANYTHING like DA:2 – I'm re-designing him with the Awakening look and a different outfit cx Enjoy the chapter! :D

“ _He-Hello?” Hawke's voice echoed into the darkness that surrounded her._

“ _Anyone...there?” Hawke's voice shook. Echo._

_Hawke hissed, feeling a sharp pain in her wrist. She grabbed onto it and holding it against her chest. She could feel liquid, warm and thick against her hand. Something slit her wrist._

“ _Who's there?” She yelled moving in a circle, looking around. Another cut on her back, her shirt cutting. Hawke yelled and punching behind her, fire flying from her fists every time she punched the air._

“ _ **Who's there**?”_

_Hawke froze, the fire dissipating in her hands._

“ _ **Sister**?” Hawke shut her eyes._

“ _N...N..o...” Hawke slowly turned around, forming a fire in her palm to see in front of her. “Bethany...”_

“ _ **Sister**? **What's wrong**?”_

_Hawke shut her hand,_ _the fire disappearing,_ _f_ _orcing herself not to see Bethany. This wasn't Bethany. It couldn't be._ _She died...She's dead…_

“ _ **Mama**... **Hawke saved me**...”_

“ _Go away!” Hawke screaming, tears streaming down her face._

“ _ **She took my place**. **She-** ”_

“ _No!” Hawke shot her hands towards Bethany, electricity burning and scorching where Bethany once stood._

“ _ **I can't believe you're a mage**!”_

_Hawke turned around and saw a young Carver standing with a young Bethany. Part of Carvers shirt was burnt and Bethany was staring down at her hands in awe. Carver growled and pushed Bethany to the ground, “ **You almost burned me**!”_

“ _ **I-I didn't mean-** ”_

“ _ **Hey!** ” Hawke turned around and saw her younger self running to her siblings, “ **Carver**! **Don't touch her**!”_

“ _ **Oh, yes, you bloody mages have to stick together**!” Carver yelled, picking up a rock, “ **Filthy forms of life**!”_

“ _ **Carver**!” Hawke yelled, knelling down next to Bethany._

“ _ **I'm sorry, sister** ,” Bethany cried into Hawke's shirt._

“ _ **Yes, cry, you coward**! **Mage's are an abomination**! **You** **both** **are disgusting**!” Carver threw the rock at Bethany. Hawke stood in front of Bethany, the rocking hitting her back._

“ _ **Carver** ,” Hawke warned, looking down at Bethany to make sure she was okay._

“ _ **No**! **It's because of you we had to leave Denerim and move to this**... **hell**!” Carver picked up another rock and threw it at Hawke._

“ _Carver...” Hawke whispered. She could feel the anger inside her again. She shut her eyes, knowing what came next._

“ _ **You filthy mages and-** ”_

“ _ **Enough**!” Hawke turned around, twisting her hand around towards Carver. Carver flew back from the impact of the fire ball. Hawke's eyes glowed with hatred as she stalked towards Carver._

“ _ **Don't you** **ever** **talk that way about our family**!” Hawke walked through the fire, coming out on the other side untouched and unscathed._

“ _ **Sister-** ” Bethany stood up, hearing screaming from further into the forest._

“ _ **If it wasn't for mages, you wouldn't be alive right now**!” Hawke screamed, throwing her hand above her head and swinging it down towards the ground. A patch of lightning hit the ground inches in front of Carver._

“ _ **Sister**!” Bethany screamed, running around the fire towards Hawke, “ **Templar's**!”_

_Hawke quickly went into action, “ **Run home**. **Take the route I taught you-** ”_

“ _ **What about you**?” Bethany had tears in her eyes, knowing very well she might never see her sister again._

“ _ **I'll be fine** ,” Hawke smiled, “ **Just go**.” Bethany was the first to leave, Hawke grabbed onto Carver, picking him up._

“ _ **If she goes to a circle-** ”_

“ _ **I'll protect her** ,” Carver stared at Hawke, scared, “ **I-** **I** **promise**.”_

“ _ **I** **will** **hurt you if I find out you didn't protect her**.”_

“ _Why are you doing this?” Hawke screamed into the darkness, falling onto her knees as she heard the Templar's run into the clearing. Hands grabbed at her, swords were drawn._

“ _Let me go!” Hawke screaming, fire escaping with every flick of her wrists._

“ _No!” Hawke screamed, being forced onto the ground. A templar laid on her, binding her hands together. A templar sword came across her throat, threatening, daring her to move and get hurt._

“ _No! Go-” Her thrashing made her jaw cut against the sword. A scream._

“- **A** **way**!” Hawke screamed, swing a punch in front of her, hitting Anders in the jaw. Hawke pushed herself out of the cot, pushing herself in the corner between the walls. Hawke hugged herself and mumbled over again.

“Go away. Go away. Go away.”

“The fuck, Hawke!” Anders groaned, pushing himself up. He looked over the cot and saw Hawke in the corner, rocking herself and mumbling.

“Hawke..?” Anders got up, stepping over the cot. He got on his knees and crawled towards her.

“Go away. Go away. Go away.”

Anders tilted his head and waved his hand in front of her face. No reaction. She didn't realize he was there. Anders furrowed his brow and sat next to her. He looked down at his hand as he summoned magic and than looked over at Hawke.

“It's okay.” Anders slowly slipped his hand over her eyes. Her mumbling slowly stopped, her rocking coming soon after. Anders slowly took his hand away, Hawke staring blankly in front of her. He sighed, relieved, leaning back onto the wall. Anders let his hand fall to his side, his head turned toward her. He watched her slowly become aware of her surroundings. Hawke's breathing slowed down, no longer hyperventilating. Hawke didn't move, she knew Anders sat next to her. From the pain in her knuckles she assumed she'd hurt him.

“You don't have to talk,” Anders held his hand out, “Just give me your right hand. I think you opened a stitch.” Hawke looked down at her hand, seeing Anders was right. She could swear she saw her own knuckle when she wiggled her finger around. Holding back her bile, she shoved her hand towards Anders, turning her head away. Anders took her hand in his and placed his other hand over hers, it glowing with healing magic. Anders turned his head back to her, leaning it against the wall. He continued to hold her hand, even after he finished healing the wound.

“You called out a name...while you slept-”

“My sister.”

“Bethany.” Anders nodded, pulling his hand away, he looked down at hers. Her hand had a lot of scars, most of them in her palm. Burn marks, cuts, stabs. She had cuts on most of her body, a couple of them from the fights he's healed her from.

“Thank you,” Hawke mumbled, pulling her hand away. She hugged herself, leaning her shoulder against the wall as she stared ahead.

Anders smiled, “Didn't you say we'd never see each other again after yesterday morning?”

“...You're just so sexy, Anders. How could I stay away?” Hawke said flatly with a small shrug, causing Anders to whine.

“Oh, that hurt. I thought we really had a connection.” Anders acted hurt, placing his hand over his heart with a saddened look on his face.

“I'm an occupational hazard.” Hawke mumbled.

“Being _you_ makes you a hazard? Or...being a _mage_?” Anders spoke in a whisper. He was ready to defend himself, knowing Hawke may very well lash out at him for finding out. Hawke never replied but Anders knew he was right when he saw her pull out her phylactery and clutch onto it a couple minutes later.

“You can stay the night,” Anders pushed himself off the ground, “Well...you have to stay the night. You were badly injured and I wouldn't suggest moving back to your underpass until you are fully healed.”

Anders started walking away when Hawke grabbed onto his pants, “Don't...Don't leave me...I can't-... _I can't_...”

Anders nodded, slipped back onto the ground next to her, Hawke resting her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence until Hawke fell asleep, Anders taking that queue to bring her to a cot. He picked her up carefully, Hawke's fingers clutching onto his coat as he brought her to a cot. Setting her down was easy, trying to get out of her grip was harder. Seeing him unable to get Hawke to let go, he decided to bring her to his bed. He walked over to the backroom and stared down at his bed. He wondered when the last time he ever slept on it was.

_Too long._

Anders moved the covers down before setting Hawke on the bed. He tried standing up straight, Hawke's fingers still tangled in his coat. Anders rolled his eyes and pulled the covers over Hawke.

“You get under...and I-”

Anders crawled over Hawke, her fingers never letting him go, and laid next to her on top of the blanket.

“-Get over.”

Hawke was quickly to move towards Anders warmth. She curled up next to him, him laying on his side supporting his head with his hand. He's lucky she wasn't awake, he was positive by now his face was as red as a tomato. He tried falling asleep in this position, tried ignoring Hawke pressing herself against him, tried to untangle her fingers from his coat.

“How is she still so _strong_ after tonight?” Anders cursed under his breath as he gave up and just let Hawke have her way with him. He sighed and looked down at Hawke.

“Something about you, Hawke... _something_...”

As he stared down at her, he remembered her. Every sideways glance, every plot to get out of the Tower, she was there. She never told him her name, he never got to see much of her face since she always covered it by a hood, he remembered a small scar, a unique scar. Almost faded entirely now but then it was still fresh, healing. He hesitantly ran his hand over scar on her jaw.

“How could I have forgotten you?” He mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. He decided not to tell her he remembered. She'd gone through enough, all he could do right now was nothing. He somehow fell asleep in the next hour and woke up to Hawke's fingers untangled from his coat. Her back was to him when she spoke, “Both.”

“Hmm?” Anders rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stifling in a yawn.

“Both make me an occupational hazard.”

“I don't think so.” Anders admitted, sitting up, “I'm more of an occupational hazard than you are.”

“How?” Hawke mumbled.

“I'm a Grey Warden,” Anders clicked his tongue, “ _Yup_. My job is to _kill_ darkspawn. Let's also add that I'm a mage, who at any time can become an abomination – maybe might become a pet to said darkspawn and use me as an abomination death weapon-”

“Abomination death weapon?” Hawke turned her head to look up at Anders.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Anders nodded, with a sarcastic tone, “I've fought one and let me tell ya, Hawke – **Not**. **Fun**.” Hawke rolled her eyes and sat up.

“I've escaped the tower seven times, Hawke. _Seven_. And would you look at this,” Anders tapped on his forehead, “Not _tranquil_. Just a **Warden**.”

“Anders-”

“I had to kill templars while I was traveling with the Wardens, because they kept coming after me-”

“Anders!” Hawke covered his mouth with her hand, “I get it. You are the _ultimate_ occupational hazard.” Anders stared at Hawke as she continued.

“But I'm an apostate. I don't have a banner or title protecting me. I escaped the circle the last time because I had to get to my family – who by time were dead when I already stepped out of that tower. I had a hard time controlling my magic. An even harder time keeping demons away. I can control my magic better, enough to hide it but demons – they are _everywhere_. Not just the demons that can possess mage's but my own inner demons that I still haven't beaten. I live under stairs. I live next to dead bodies some nights. I protect who I can and try not to cry when I know I have to ignore their cries for help. I wake up covered in blood some nights because people were _murdered_ on top of the stairs.”

“I live in Kirkwall, Anders. _We_ live in Kirkwall. The worst place for a mage – an _apostate_ – to be right now; too many templars and mages in one place. Too many men and women wearing the same armor and thinking what they are doing is _okay_. Anders, I'm scared when I wake up but I'm _terrified_ when I need to sleep. I keep this part of me hidden – from everyone. No one knows I'm a mage – no one knows I even exist anymore. This phylactery is _mine_. The deaths that came with trying to get _this_ was unneeded. Trying to get here was even harder, more bodies left behind – with Templar's hunting me until I got to the Storm Coast and hid on a ship.” During the time Hawke spoke, her hand left Anders mouth.

“Hawke, I-”

“You have the Grey Wardens protecting you, Anders,” She stared at him intently, “I have **no one** protecting me.”

 


End file.
